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Kyoutani's mom, Yahaba decides, is cool. She's invited them to their house and she's more than happy to supply them with a little alcohol as long as they're sensible. Yahaba's mom is great but she absolutely wouldn't encourage them to drink, they're not even allowed in the house in groups of more than three.
Kyoutani's mom is either really cool, or really naive.
So they go to the party and he meets Kyoutani's dog for the first time and she's gorgeous. She's some kind of greyhound cross but she's a rescue so Kyoutani isn't actually sure what breed she is. She's excited when they all arrive, jumping up and kissing them with her wet tongue and getting a ton of fusses.
She sits politely while they eat pizza and when Kyoutani offers her a slice of pepperoni she sits on her hind legs and doesn't take it until Kyoutani tells her to. She's very well behaved, very well trained.
They drink their sugary alcopops and play stupid games on Kyoutani's battered coffee table and it's a really good time. They're loud and boisterous but Kyoutani's mom doesn't seem to mind at all, pops in every now and again to check on them.
They're arm wrestling, for some reason, when she appears and leans against the doorframe watching them. There's a pretty even split of who they think will win between Kyoutani and Watari and they're screaming on their choice like they've bet their life savings on it. Yahaba is behind Kyoutani, hands on his back like he can push winning energy into him, Kindaichi is behind him hollering and that's when Yahaba looks up.
Sees Kyoutani's mother watching them, her smile soft, fond.
Yahaba wonders if this is the first time he's had friends over and wonders if he's ever even had friends before.
He's pretty sure he knows the answer but Kyoutani slams Watari's hand down and they're cheering or offering condolences and Yahaba is hooting, ecstatic.
“Alright boys,” his mother peels off the doorframe and Yahaba thinks they're about to get told off even though there's been no sign of that coming. “It's getting late now so keep the noise down a little please, I don't want you disturbing Mrs Sato next door.”
“She's like a hundred years old,” Kyoutani chips in.
His mother rolls her eyes, “she's eighty six. I just want to be a respectful neighbour. Okay boys?” There's a mess of voices responding in affirmative, “put on a movie or something, I don't want you lot to go home all hyped up and annoy your parents.”
Kyoutani reaches for the remote, they've got a lot of DVDs on their bookcase so a couple of the team wander over to look while the rest pack up the games.
They're pretty well behaved most of the time, Yahaba thinks, removes himself from Kyoutani's back where he's still draped over him, settles onto the couch.
“Ken,” he looks up at his mother's voice, leans back against the couch, bracketed in by Yahaba's legs. “I'm going to bed, make sure your friends get home safe.”
“I will. Night, mom.”
“Love you.”
Yahaba watches from behind as Kyoutani's ears get red, “love you too.”
Cute, he thinks. But he's looking at Kyoutani.
Kyoutani invites Yahaba over to study English, it's Yahaba's worst subject and one of Kyoutani's best so it makes sense. So he's back at Kyoutani's place trying to work out tenses and grammar and with Kyoutani telling him how much his handwriting sucks.
His mom is pottering around in the background, cleaning and doing laundry and washing out the dogs bowls. It's very domestic, very nice.
She gets them cans of soda from the fridge and bags of crisps and sweets and a box of chocolates. It's not as much effort as Yahaba's moms fruit trays or vegetable platters but it feels the same somehow. It still feels like they're being well looked after.
Besides, Kyoutani's mother is by herself and works full time as well as managing the house, it must be a lot to handle.
When Yahaba has friends over they go to his room to stay out of the way but at Kyoutani's they set up in the heart of the house at the kitchen table.
Kyoutani is actually a pretty good tutor when he's not teasing him and he explains things in a way Yahaba actually understands. For a study session it's going pretty well and they're actually studying which is the biggest surprise of all. When Watari comes over to study they mostly play video games.
Yahaba's coming back from the bathroom when he sees it, a lump of bedraggled fluff with eyes perched atop the washing machine. He stares at it, not overly keen on cats, watching it slowly ease itself up to assess him.
“I didn't know you had a cat,” he calls into the next room and hears Kyoutani's chair scrape out. “An old cat.”
“We've had Koko since I was tiny,” Kyoutani comments, “you can pet her, she's friendly.”
Yahaba isn't entirely sure he believes him but he offers out his hand gently to be sniffed, then, when she seems to approve, carefully scratches her head. “A very old girl, huh?” He asks, smiling as she starts up a rumbling purr and nudges into his palm.
“She's barely got any teeth left,” Kyoutani smiles, “she'll still bite you if you touch her belly though.”
“Noted.” She's kinda cute in the way an old lady is, with a certain twinkle in her eye that says she's still got life left in her. “Only belly rubs for Kumo then.”
The cat stretches and Yahaba retreats, startled, watches her extend her back legs out and splay her toes before settling back down.
“Wanna see our trick?” Kyoutani asks and Yahaba nods, wondering how exactly you teach a cat a trick.
He watches, amused, as Kyoutani takes a couple of steps back from the washing machine and holds his arms out in front of him, “come on Koko.”
Yahaba watches Koko ease herself up onto her old legs and wonders if she'll even be able to do whatever Kyoutani wants her to. She's an old girl after all.
“Koko, up,” he calls, smiling at her softly, gesturing to her with his hands.
Yahaba watches as she gets herself set up, bum wiggling as she takes a minute to calculate the jump, to spring.
For a second it looks like she won't make it but Kyoutani moves closer and lowers his arms and catches her, nestles her to his chest.
“Good girl, Koko,” he's putting on a baby voice, fussing at her head, kissing her.
Cute, Yahaba thinks.
But not about Koko.
After the trick Kyoutani carries Koko to the table and gently sets her down on it. Yahaba warms to her very quickly, laughs as she bats playfully at his pen when he tries to write and flops herself against his arm asking for pets which he willingly gives.
Kyoutani watches them, smiling, fond.
He stops every time Yahaba looks up but he catches it anyway, the end of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Cute.
He thinks again.
About both of them this time.
Kyoutani and Yahaba manage to actually become friends as they head into their third year. After a blow up argument at the start of the summer where they drift apart, they're brought back together by Kyoutani sending photos of his pets.
Stupid, Yahaba thinks, looking at a photo of Koko lying in a ray of sunshine. Stupid that they fell out at all.
They are good at falling out though.
Kyoutani starts asking him to walk Kumo with him and it turns out they actually get along really well away from the stress of the court. They talk about books and movies and music and what they want to do when they leave school and move on.
Kyoutani is aiming for the Olympics and maybe to become a veterinarian, Yahaba wants to play in college and retire on a victory, he's not sure what he wants to study yet.
They meet up most days, take Kumo for long walks in shady parks where the sun isn't quite as hot. Watch her play in lakes and catch sticks and roll around in the sweet summer grass.
Kyoutani is very different when he's not at school, Yahaba thinks, not as angry, not as volatile. He's starting to think it's all an act, just something he does to seem tough.
Yahaba thinks he's scared to let anyone in, like he's been hurt before.
One night Kyoutani texts him late on, asking if he's free. Yahaba's parents are out of town so he invites him over and when he turns up he seems worried, twitchy.
It takes a while to get the truth out of him but he eventually says that his father has been in touch, wanting to see him, to reconnect. He hides his face behind a carton of strawberry milk and doesn't meet Yahaba's eye.
Yahaba curls up at the end of the sofa listening to him talk with the glow of a movie they're ignoring washing over his face.
He tells Yahaba about his mother kicking his father out when he was only about ten. Tells Yahaba that his father used to scream at his mother, hit her, throw things, grab and hurt and bully.
Yahaba feels his face soften, Kyoutani makes sense to him now and so does his mother who only wants to see him happy. Kyoutani tells Yahaba that when he told his mother she said it was his choice to make.
One hell of a choice, Yahaba thinks, listening to his voice get harder, angrier, hurt and confused.
“Do you want to see him?”
Kyoutani swallows, puts his empty carton on the coffee table, watches the credits scroll on the TV. They've been talking a long time, it's dark outside. Quiet.
“No.”
“Then don't.” It seems simple but Yahaba knows it isn't, watches Kyoutani fidget with his fingers and try to work out what he wants to say.
“He's my dad, though.”
“Not really,” Kyoutani looks up at him, eyebrows all furrowed. “A dad is meant to be there for you, to support you. He's never done that for you. He's, sort of, just the man your mom had a baby with.”
Kyoutani bites his lip, Yahaba thinks he agrees with him, thinks he knew what his answer was before he even came over. “I kinda want to meet him just so I can punch him for what he did to my mom.”
Yahaba inclines his head, he gets that completely, wonders just how much of it Kyoutani remembers. Wonders how much it has shaped who he is. “Think it would feel better to just cut him out, to tell him he doesn't deserve a place in your life.”
Kyoutani looks up at him, his face has sort of brightened, “that's good. That's it. That's what I wanna say. How-?”
“It's what I'd want to say if somebody had hurt my mom. It's hysterical he even thinks he has a chance really. Pretty pathetic.”
Kyoutani smiles, he looks like he feels better and Yahaba glances at the clock on the wall. Almost midnight, he thinks Kyoutani will end up staying over at this rate.
“Thanks, Yahaba,” and his expression is genuine, grateful.
Funny to think that at the start of the summer they hated each other and now they're trading life advice.
“Sure, you wanna stay over?”
Kyoutani seems surprised but nods, “okay. I better phone my mom.”
“Just come up when you're done, I'll get the futon sorted.”
Kyoutani doesn't reply, he's already got his phone up to his ear so Yahaba turns the TV off and leaves him to it.
Later, when they're lying in the darkness of Yahaba's room waiting for sleep to envelop them, Kyoutani speaks again.
“Yahaba?” He hums a response, he's warm and comfortable. “Thank you. You're a good friend.”
Cute, Yahaba thinks, feels his lips turn up into a smile. “Any time,” he murmurs into the still room and hears Kyoutani huff softly in response.
Then all is quiet.
Peaceful.
Settled
“My mom wants to know if you want to stay over next week, she's going out of town to see one of her friends.”
Yahaba looks up from Kumo's warm belly, surprised since the only time they've had a sleep over it was sort of an accident.
“Sure, how long is she going for?”
“Just a week, they try to meet up every autumn but she's just had a baby so they've moved it forwards.”
Yahaba sits up, feels grass sticking to his side where he's been lying, “you're going to be by yourself a whole week?”
“Some people don't need mummy to do everything for them.”
Yahaba laughs, “fuck you!” Throws a handful of grass at him and is fairly unsurprised when Kyoutani retaliates by tackling him.
Kyoutani's pretty tactile once he's comfortable with you.
Or if wants to rip your head off.
But he hasn't wanted to do that to Yahaba in a while so they roll around on the grass wrestling and pulling at each other's shirts to establish dominance.
Kyoutani comes out on top, because of course he does, he's a lot stronger than Yahaba and they both know it. He looks down at him, rumpled and grass-stained beneath him, grinning with childish glee.
“Someone's defensive. Embarrassed, are we?”
“At least I don't bake cupcakes with my mom like a little girl.”
Kyoutani rips out a handful of grass and stuffs it into Yahaba's shirt.
Yahaba shrieks.
“I don't have a futon,” Kyoutani mentions casually far too late into the day to do anything about it.
“I'll just sleep on the floor then, I guess?”
Kyoutani laughs, playfully hits him around the head, “I've got a double bed, I think you'll be fine, but if you really want to sleep on the floor you go for it.”
“Now you mention it, I think I'd prefer the bed.”
Kyoutani huffs, watching Yahaba shift on the sofa so Kumo can jump up next to him. They end up squashed together but Kumo changes her mind and flops down across both their laps.
Despite this Yahaba doesn't move back over.
Yahaba feels a bit weird when it gets to bedtime, he's never actually shared a bed with anyone before and it feels like a big deal.
Kyoutani offers to build him a fort of pillows to separate them but that feels ridiculous so he laughs, declines.
Watches Kyoutani smile, like he was hoping he'd say no.
Yahaba wakes up on his back with the dawn sun shining through the blinds and Koko curled up under his arm. He blinks himself awake, it's warm, Kyoutani lies on his front, his face turned away, all squashed up next to him with an arm flung around his waist.
Yahaba exhales, thinks this is pretty nice, waking up to Kyoutani with his pets nearby, the smell of mown grass drifting in through the open window.
“Hi baby, did you sleep well?” He keeps his cooing voice quiet as he rubs at Koko's ears but Kyoutani still stirs.
“Pretty good, and don't call me baby.”
Yahaba laughs, Kumo pops her head up but stays on the floor, tongue lolling out happily, “as if I was talking to you.”
Kyoutani hums very softly, his voice is slurred with sleep, “what times it?”
Yahaba fights the urge to put his hand in his hair for about nine seconds, but then Kyoutani squeezes his side and he gives in. His hair has grown out a little bit so it's less spiky than normal, softer. “Still early.”
Kyoutani makes another noise, a long, comfortable exhale, murmurs, “so stop talking.”
“Okay,” Yahaba watches Kyoutani shuffle around trying to get comfy again. He turns his head and peers at him with one bleary eye.
His arm is still over Yahaba's waist.
“Think you like my cat more than me.”
“Maybe.”
“Rude,” Kyoutani breathes but he's clearly drifting off, his eyes are closed and Yahaba watches his face relax as he sinks into sleep once more.
Lies there with his hand in his hair and his cat perched on his chest and thinks-
Cute.
Then.
I'm so fucked.
Yahaba discovers a nice spot, he's out for a walk, bored of being cooped up in the house while it's so nice out. He's walking, aimless, he's got a podcast on but he's not really paying attention.
He's thinking about Kyoutani.
He does that a lot lately.
He's pretty sure he's got a crush and while he's not really worried about it, it does weigh on him sometimes. He's never liked a guy before. He's dated a couple of girls, never anything serious, never anything special.
But Kyoutani feels special.
He loves his mother and his pets, he reads in bed every night for half an hour before he goes to sleep. If he gets a cute sticker he puts it on his headboard instead of throwing it away. His room is packed with books and photos his mother has taken of him playing. He likes to bake and washes his own clothes and wants to become a vet so he can help animals.
Yahaba doesn't even know what he wants to do yet. It feels so far away, so distant.
He thinks about Kyoutani moving away for college, thinks of them playing on separate teams. It's not something he likes thinking about and he turns into an area he doesn't know very well.
It's a bit run down and it's deserted, Yahaba thinks some of the buildings look condemned. He's a fair way from home now and the buildings are apartment blocks rather than individual houses. It's interesting, he thinks, wandering through the empty streets with his headphones forgotten around his neck. The kind of place he'd like to explore.
So, he does.
That's when he finds it, the nice spot.
He has to duck under a fence and drag himself through some undergrowth to get there but when he straightens up he's in what must have been a communal garden. There's a very high wall on one side and Yahaba thinks it might be where the train runs, high up on hidden tracks.
It's overgrown but it's incredibly quiet, still.
There's a set of swings left to rust and he sits on one gingerly, swinging gently in the warm breeze.
The wall is covered in graffiti, from messy scribbles to full on pieces of art. The grass springs up full of flowers and dotted with weeds.
Yahaba didn't know there was somewhere like this close to his house, goes onto his maps app to get the coordinates in case he wants to come back. Snaps a picture of the wall, sends it to Kyoutani.
Scrolls up their messages, looking at pictures of Koko and Kumo, the cover of the book Kyoutani's reading, his mother kneading dough and giving him a look.
Then a new message pings through, it's a photo of Kyoutani. He's outside and sweating, his hair stuck to his scalp, his face very tan from the sun.
‘where you at? Looks cool’
Yahaba sends him the coordinates and gets back of a screenshot of Kyoutani's route on the app he uses to track his runs. He'll be there in about ten minutes.
Yahaba looks at the average time for his mile and gets a pang of jealousy, Kyoutani isn't just stronger than him, he's faster than him too.
That explains the sweating then.
‘omw’
‘don't die before I get there’
‘I'll try not to’
Yahaba heads out to the street to meet him since he's not entirely sure he'll follow the unorthodox route Yahaba took to get to the spot.
Turns out it was a good idea because he gets to watch him run into view in a thin vest and shorts with the tiniest inseam Yahaba thinks he's ever seen him wear. He's also got a backpack on, the kind that just holds water and there's a tube attached to the strap of his vest.
Kyoutani takes running very seriously.
Yahaba leans against a wall not entirely casually, his knees feel a bit weak as Kyoutani slows on his way over then stops. Breathing heavily and grinning, pleased with himself.
“Ten miles,” he brags, laughs at Yahaba's expression, lifts his shirt to wipe sweat off his face.
Yahaba stares at the sweat trickling down his abs.
His knees definitely feel weak now.
Kyoutani won't stay still, starts jumping around as if he's jogging on the spot, Yahaba assumes this is part of his cooling down ritual. “Come on then, show me where the spot is.”
So, Yahaba does.
Kyoutani looks impressed when he emerges, looks around for a minute, assessing things.
Then casually takes his shirt off altogether.
Starts stretching like he does before practice, lunging with each leg and pushing into the burn of the muscle.
“This is cool, how'd you find it?”
Yahaba stands staring at the muscles flexing in his thighs for a minute, finds his voice when Kyoutani looks up, catches him.
He's definitely got a crush.
He's also being pretty obvious about it.
“I was just on a walk and ended up here.”
Kyoutani drops onto the grass properly, legs splayed apart, leans to one side then the other, fingers gripping his sneakers, “doesn't seem like your sort of spot. It's a bit rough.”
“Maybe I like rough.”
Kyoutani looks up at him, his gaze unreadable, “do you?”
Yahaba shrugs, in all truth he's not sure, it's quite a weird thing to be asked actually. He opens his mouth and instead of saying something like, ‘the graffiti is cool’.
He says, “need a hand?”
Kyoutani huffs a laugh, “sure thing, captain.”
Yahaba realises his mistake the second he puts his hands on Kyoutani's hot, damp skin, the minute he pushes him down into the stretch and hears him groan.
Yahaba's pretty sure he could shut his eyes right now and imagine something else entirely. Something that has no right popping into his head on a random summer afternoon.
Something he's never dared think about before.
A warm bed, naked skin.
Kyoutani's body on top of his.
He takes his hands off him entirely too fast but Kyoutani just grumbles that they need to do the other side. So they do.
Yahaba pushes him so flat his nose is basically touching his shin and he exhales a noise that's neither pain nor pleasure.
Whatever it is, Yahaba likes it.
Feels his back muscles flexing under his palms, the sharp curve of his ribs under his fingertips. They might stretch every practice but it's not like this, at practice it's clinical, necessary.
There's nothing necessary about this, Kyoutani can stretch perfectly fine by himself and they both know it but Yahaba had offered to help and Kyoutani had accepted.
That feels significant.
When Kyoutani signals that he's done Yahaba takes his hands off again, watches him jump up and wonders if his skin would taste like salt as the sweat dries.
“You been inside?”
Yahaba pulls a face, “that seemed like a bad idea.”
Kyoutani laughs, “I won't let you die,” Yahaba still isn't sure. “Come on!”
Kyoutani offers a hand out, his palm facing the hot sun, his fingers bending upwards as if trying to cup it in his hand.
“It'll be an adventure,” Kyoutani smiles, keeps his hand extended and beams when Yahaba takes it, pulls him through the long grass and into the building.
I trust you, Yahaba thinks, please don't let it be misguided.
Summer is coming to an end, the air is getting cooler, the sun dimming as they get closer to autumn. Yahaba's preparing to go back to school, buying a new uniform and studying and watching volleyball matches for tips he can use.
Kyoutani's doing the same and for a week or so they don't see each other at all but they talk non stop via text. They're got a long streak on Snapchat where they exchange photos of whatever they're doing.
Lately, the photos have become different.
Yes, there's still photos of meals and of pets and of the sky when it's particularly pretty. But now they send photos of themselves, looking annoyed at the grocery store, lying in front of a fan trying to cool off.
Fresh out of the shower with just a towel on.
Well, it's Kyoutani who sends that one.
Yahaba wouldn't be that brave. He wants to screenshot it but he knows Kyoutani will be notified if he does that. Instead he goes downstairs, flustered, begging to use his mom's phone for a minute. She's confused but agrees.
So he has a photo of the photo on his phone.
It's not great, but it's good enough.
Yahaba looks at the photo a lot even though he never replied.
He probably looks at the photo a bit too much.
But their chatting continues, their streak. Kyoutani sends him a photo before he goes to sleep every night, huddled up in bed with one or both of his pets next to him. A simple caption, ‘goodnight’.
Yahaba responds in kind.
It, again, feels significant.
A week left until school restarts and Kyoutani suggests while they walk Kumo that they could go camping in the spot Yahaba found. A spot they've been back to a lot.
One last adventure before school restarts.
They've had a lot of adventures this summer, Yahaba thinks. He's loved every single one of them. He's pretty sure he'd love anything with Kyoutani by his side.
So he says yes and tells his mother he's going to stay the night at Kyoutani's and she kisses his head and tells him she's glad he's got such good friends.
He thinks she'd say something different if he hadn't deleted the post-shower selfie of Kyoutani off her phone.
So they start planning, Yahaba digs a tent out of the loft and they shop for supplies and decide what they're going to eat and how they're going to get everything there. They don't need a lot of stuff for just the two of them so the morning of they load up backpacks with all their stuff and set off on foot from Kyoutani's house.
His mother has baked them cookies to take with them, tells Kyoutani to look after the both of them and kisses his cheek as she waves them off.
Yahaba gets to watch Kyoutani's ears turn red again.
Cute.
He's definitely thinking about Kyoutani this time.
Camp is pretty easy to set up, the tent is only small but it takes longer than it should to put up because they keep bickering.
Yahaba doesn't really mind it when they make little jabs at each other because now he knows they're not meant, they're not coming from anger.
They're coming from affection.
Sort of.
So camp is made and the day is spent exploring the rest of the abandoned neighborhood. Most of the buildings are sealed off with metal doors and big padlocks but some of them have broken windows or other ways they can sneak in. They get inside and walk through broken glass and debris and discarded books, their sneakers sending up clouds of dust. Heading higher and higher through so many apartments, so many homes that have been lost to time.
It's weird, Yahaba thinks, how time doesn't seem to exist here, how it's like they're somewhere detached from reality.
It's called ‘liminal’, Kyoutani explains, offering him a hand to climb over a toppled wardrobe in their quest to get higher. They're spaces that could be anywhere, that feel surreal or unnerving. That feel like stepping into a different world.
Yahaba likes liminal spaces, he decides, thinks about being on the train at night and there being nothing outside the windows but blackness. The train could be anywhere, any time, any era. Separated from reality.
They manage to get up to the roof and there's a cool breeze and the air feels very fresh and very thick when coming from the decay below.
They break for lunch, sitting close together on top of a defunct air conditioning unit, sharing food from plastic tubs. Cookies from a bag. Yahaba crosses his legs, rests his knee on Kyoutani's bare thigh.
Smiles up at the sky when Kyoutani puts the food away and tucks his arm over Yahaba's bent knee, his rough fingertips on bare skin. His touch feels intentional, his palm pressed to his skin, his thumb rubbing up and down in a gentle arc.
Yahaba tests the waters, settles his head on his shoulder, dangles his hands in his lap just to see if Kyoutani will take one.
He waits a while, but he does.
He shifts, careful, intentional. Rests his head on Yahaba's, flexes his fingers against his leg a few times like he's nervous.
Then offers his hand again, palm up, fingers curling. Reaching for something he wants to hold.
Yahaba feels shy suddenly, feels himself blush, his mouth tilted up at the corners, his cheeks pink. But Kyoutani's hand stays there, a constant offer as Yahaba considers it.
This time it isn't a hand pulling him towards an adventure or into the grass or away from a street vendor because they ate five minutes ago and how is he still hungry?
This feels like a step.
It's nerve-wracking, but it's a step Yahaba wants to take so he reaches out into the unknown.
Finds Kyoutani there, hand warm, fingers rough.
Affectionate.
Turns out it's not that scary after all, taking the leap.
But then he supposes that Kyoutani took the leap first, all he had to do was follow and he'd follow him anywhere.
So they sit there atop the world or at least feeling like they are, huddled close together under the waning summer sun.
“It won't be like this when we go back to school.”
Yahaba frowns, tilts his head the best he can to look at him, squeezes his hand, “won't it?”
Kyoutani huffs, “we'll be busy. School, practice, homework.”
Yahaba knows he's right but he feels like their moment has been spoiled, like this perfect summer is rushing to a close and they're desperately holding onto each other. “We'll make time. My mom said you're always welcome at my house.”
“So did mine, even at 3am apparently. Though,” he laughs softly, “if you wake me up at 3am I'll be pretty pissed off. Unless it's for a good reason.”
“What would you consider a good reason?”
He doesn't mean to be suggestive, it hadn't even occurred to him but Kyoutani snorts and murmurs that he's got a few ideas, pulls Yahaba to his feet.
Moment over.
They've got more exploring to do.
By the end of the day they're both dusty and tired, satisfied in their exploration and very much ready for dinner. Kyoutani wants to light a fire but Yahaba thinks that's a bad idea and they bicker over that for a while as the sky gets slowly darker.
Kyoutani wins though and they gather twigs in the dying light and spark a lighter and slowly coax fire out of nothing. It's a bit like them, Yahaba thinks, something that needs to be grown, to be created then to be tended to, to be looked after.
He plans on looking after it.
This time, when they settle down for bed Kyoutani pulls him in, wraps his arms around him. Holds him.
Savouring the moment.
Before it all comes crashing down.
The next morning Yahaba wakes up to silence, pillowed on Kyoutani's chest, their legs tangled under messy blankets. It's warm out and Kyoutani is like a furnace, there's beads of condensation on the tent from where they've been breathing all night. It's very quiet.
Yahaba listens to Kyoutani's heart beating, the steady noise of his breathing, settles down again and closes his eyes, nudges a little closer.
He smells like aftershave and dust, like chocolate and smoke from the fire.
Yahaba wonders when they'll get to do this again now that summer's almost ended. Wonders if it will hurt, being together but so far away from each other.
When he wakes again Kyoutani is already awake and they've shifted again, lying side by side on the uneven ground below them.
“Morning,” Yahaba croaks out in a voice that has been silent for too long. “You sleep okay?”
Kyoutani nods, runs his fingers through his hair, squeezes his back, “yeah. You?”
“Mm-hm.”
Kyoutani likes moments like this, they always feel stolen somehow, like in all the chaos of life they've managed to snatch a few moments for themselves. He likes Yahaba when he's just woken up too, when he's soft and relaxed, comfortable.
He's beautiful, in the blue light, with his hair all messy and his face creased from his pillow.
They lie there for a while, drifting in and out, happy in each other's company, in each other's arms.
Then everything goes wrong.
Yahaba exhales and shifts closer and puts his hand on his face and says, “Ken,” tenderly, like a blessing. Lies there looking at him.
Waiting.
And Kyoutani looks back at him and it's a good moment but it's not the right one, it feels so obvious to kiss Yahaba now, after the summer they've had. After getting so close it's the logical conclusion but somehow it still doesn't feel right and even though Kyoutani wants to kiss him.
He doesn't.
Suddenly, he's scared.
“Ken?” Yahaba asks, unsure, confused. His hand slips off his face and lies in the dead space between them. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
Kyoutani watches him retreat into himself, unsure and doubting. “No, I just-”
“Just what?”
Kyoutani thinks that he could kiss him now, apologise and pull him in close but that's not right either and he realises he's let the perfect moment slip by. Stupid in his own fear. “I just can't.”
“Oh,” Yahaba breathes, then, “okay,” then, sitting up looking uncomfortable, pulling his clothes back on. “It's late, my mom’ll be worried.”
They're quiet taking their camp back down but it's not a comfortable silence and Kyoutani knows he's messed up.
That was the right moment, he thinks.
And now he's wasted it.
Yahaba returns his hug when he drops him off at home but Kyoutani can tell his heart’s not in it and his voice is very hollow when he says he'll see him next week.
When Yahaba gets inside he wants to go straight to his room but his mother hears him, calls out to ask if he had fun. He lies and says yes but it's obvious from his voice that something's wrong. His mother comes out of the kitchen with her washing up gloves still on, frowns at him, “you stink of campfire. Where have you been?”
Yahaba looks at her, thinks he can't handle being told off today so he just opens his mouth and tells the truth, “me and Kyoutani went camping by this abandoned building I found.”
She doesn't look impressed but she can see he's upset so she asks him to sit down so she can talk to him, disappears back into the kitchen.
He feels dejected, rejected, sitting on the couch waiting for her.
Almost like he's going to cry.
The whole summer has been leading up to this camping trip, has been leading up to them.
And at the last minute, when Yahaba thought everything was going great and that Kyoutani really liked him.
It all got torn down around him.
His mother comes back holding her mobile, she sighs before she opens her mouth like she's trying to work out what to say. “I've been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I didn't really know how to do it.”
She offers her phone over and there it is, the photo of the snap of Kyoutani fresh out of the shower. Yahaba feels angry just looking at it, turns his face away feeling ashamed and sick.
He must not have deleted it well enough.
“I was going to wait until you went back to school to ask. I just- Did something happen, camping?”
Yahaba almost wants to laugh, “no,” he says flatly, “nothing happened.”
“Did he do something you didn't want?” He understands why she's worried, she's found a saucy photo sent to her son by the boy he's been with all summer and now he's lied about where he spent the night and come back upset.
He's not surprised she's thinking something awful about Kyoutani.
He still defends him even as his voice hardens, shakes, “He didn't do anything.”
She watches him as he blinks his eyes too fast, clenches his jaw, sighs again, “is that why you're upset?”
Yahaba looks at his hands in his lap, hands that only a few hours ago he thought Kyoutani wanted to hold. Hands he thinks will never touch Kyoutani again. “Yeah,” he says, feeling angry and devastated and confused. “So you don't need to worry about the photo. Or about me being gay. I'll stick to girls from now on.”
And he's up and heading for the door not knowing where he's going but knowing he needs to go somewhere. He needs to fucking run.
So he ignores his mother calling his name, asking him to come back, running after him to the front door in her apron.
He walks out of the house and his feet hit the pavement and he feels like if he doesn't run he'll scream and scream and scream.
So he runs.
Doesn't stop until he thinks he's going to be sick.
When he gets home his father is back from his business trip, Yahaba feels exhausted now, numb.
He doesn't really feel anything which is probably why he ends up screaming at his father.
It starts like this, he gets home, his mother is cooking dinner but comes rushing out when she hears the door. She looks relieved to see him but then his father calls his name from the study and she smiles at him, warm, supportive.
Glad he's safe.
She watches him until he gets inside and the door closes behind him, then she goes back into the kitchen and wipes her eyes and keeps making dinner like nothing happened today.
They're good at that in Yahaba's family, good at pretending they're perfect. Good at hiding everything that hurts.
Yahaba is tired of pretending.
“You wanted me?” Yahaba asks, staring at the back of his father's head, wanting desperately to take a shower and crawl into bed and sleep until he feels better.
“Third year starts soon, any thoughts on college?”
“Not really.”
His father frowns, turns in his office chair to look at him. Only just back from a six month trip and he's already ignoring his family again, working again.
“Well this is the time to be deciding what you want to do, I think economics would-”
“I'm not studying economics.”
His father looks slightly taken aback but adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, carries right on as if his son isn't shaking in front of him. “Alright then, law would be a good option. Or medicine of course but you'd need to get your science grades up for that.”
“No.”
His father looks offended, “no? Young man you need to start thinking about your future, now is the time-”
Yahaba snaps.
“I don't give a fuck about college. And I definitely don't give a shit about what you want me to study!”
“How dare you speak to me like-”
“You're never here!” If Yahaba wasn't yelling so loudly he'd hear quiet footsteps outside the door, he'd hear his mother sneaking closer to listen.
Leaving dinner to burn.
“You're never here and even when you are you don't talk to me unless it's to tell me what to do. You have no idea what's going on in my life so don't you fucking dare think you have any right in deciding what I do with it.”
“Son-”
“Don't fucking ‘son’, me. The only thing you care about is your own reputation. You don't get to pretend you care about me now.” Yahaba stares at his father, he's open mouthed. Stunned.
It's about time he heard the truth, Yahaba thinks, it's about time he thought about somebody but himself.
“At least Kyoutani's dad had the decency to fucking leave instead of sticking around to ruin his life.” That's not strictly true but whatever, Yahaba is shaking with rage, so sick of everything in his life turning to shit in his hands.
If he was more sensible he'd probably realise he's making things worse but he's upset and he's exhausted of this charade of a family.
A silence falls, Yahaba is breathing heavily, he feels erratic and edgy, like he could do something stupid if given the chance.
His father's voice is quiet and even. He doesn't look upset, “I think it's best that you go to your room.”
“Fuck you,” Yahaba spits, leaves and slams the door behind himself.
Sees his mother standing there looking shocked but not necessarily in a bad way, her eyes are wide and she looks stunned.
Yahaba thinks maybe she has been wanting to say some of the same things.
But then he thinks of something else, the nail in the coffin, so to speak.
He swings the door back open, “and I'm gay, by the way.” Slams it shut behind him so hard something falls off a shelf, shatters.
Crumples into his mother's arms.
Cries.
None of them get to eat dinner that night and Yahaba watches his mother scrape it into the bin with tears trickling down her face.
His father doesn't come out of his office.
When the first day of term comes his father says he will drive him to practice on his way to the office. His father doesn't usually work in an office and Yahaba can't tell if he's lying or if he's asked for a local position.
He doesn't bother to ask.
He sits next to him in stony silence, gritting his teeth, waiting for a lecture that doesn't come.
They pull up outside school and Yahaba tries to escape the car the second it's motionless but the central locking is on. He's going to have to wait for his father to let him out.
This'll be it, he thinks, a lecture about his attitude and his orientation and his future.
But his father just looks at him and says, softly, “have a good practice,” before he unlocks the door.
Yahaba doesn't stick around to reply.
He's dreading seeing Kyoutani but what he isn't expecting is for him to be waiting outside the locked court. He straightens up when he sees him, he looks tense and nervous.
“Hey,” he offers when Yahaba unlocks the door so they can get in.
Yahaba decides to ignore him, he's shouted at enough people now and besides, he's resigned himself to bitter disappointment.
Kyoutani follows him because of course he does, talking the whole way about how he's sorry and he knows he's given Yahaba the wrong idea and that he knows he's hurt him.
Nowhere in that does he explain himself, does he offer any reason why.
He keeps taking while Yahaba wheels out the cart of balls and while he helps him put out the nets.
He sounds desperate which is actually pretty nice but other than that Yahaba blocks him out.
Until they go into the locker room to change, until he walks up to him and tries to put his hands on him.
His intentions are innocent, he's gentle.
Yahaba shoves him off anyway, angry that he seems to think a few apologies will fix what he broke.
He's holding his discarded shirt in one hand and he's gripping it so tight his knuckles are white. “Look, I am barely holding it together as it is, I told my dad to go fuck himself a few days ago because he doesn't care about me and clearly you don't either so would you please, please just keep it to yourself I've had enough.”
Kyoutani looks at him as his voice starts shaking, as his eyes get wet and Yahaba really wanted to be calm and collected but now his feelings are involved he can't be.
“I should have just kissed you.”
“I'm glad you didn't because you obviously didn't want to.”
“I did want to, I just-”
But then the door opens and Watari comes in early for the first practice of the year and sees them at odds already. He winces but then he sees that Yahaba actually looks upset and when he flees to the bathroom, he follows and gives Kyoutani a dirty look on the way.
Yahaba doesn't quite end up telling Watari everything but he tells him a lot. He listens with wide, stunned eyes and hands him sheets of toilet roll for his eyes and when he's done he just says, “well, maybe he was scared.”
Yahaba scoffs. “Of what? Me?”
Watari rolls his eyes, starts tallying his points on his fingers, “of losing you as a friend if it doesn't work out, of having to keep everything a secret, of you breaking up and being on the same team, of what’ll happen when you go to college. Or, you know, the whole gay thing.”
Yahaba looks at him, thinks that those are all good reasons but that he's still pretty mad, pretty upset.
“Look, you two always make up again when you fall out, why would this time be any different?”
Yahaba doesn't know what to say to that, he stands up when Watari offers him a hand and wipes his eyes. Watari pats him on the back encouragingly.
“Besides, you're the captain now.” Yahaba doesn't follow. “Make his life hell.”
Kyoutani hangs back after evening practice even though he must be exhausted after all the drills Yahaba made him do.
Yahaba sees him by his locker and sighs, wonders how he's meant to forget about him when he has to see him everyday. He wants to, wants to forget the way his skin feels and how he smells and how his body always wants to gravitate closer.
“What do you want?”
“I'm trying to fix this.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't have broken it,” Kyoutani doesn't say anything but he has the nerve to look hurt and for the second time today Yahaba snaps.
“What was this summer even about, Kyoutani?” Yahaba's upset but he's embarrassed too, his cheeks are red, “Just a bit of fun? Practice for the real thing?”
Kyoutani looks at him breaking apart, doesn't know what to say, “this summer meant something to me. And I thought it meant something to you too but obviously I'm wrong.”
“It did mean something to me,” but his voice is quiet, he's terrified of saying the wrong thing, of making things worse.
“Lie to somebody who might fucking believe it because I don't. I'm going home.”
And Kyoutani stands there, useless and stupid and watches as Yahaba starts crying, as tears leak down his face.
He stands and watches as he turns away, as he leaves.
Kyoutani is sitting at the dining table staring at nothing when his mother gets home, Koko is winding around his feet but he ignores her. He just sits there with his head in his hands, trying to figure out how to fix everything.
“Honey, what's wrong?” His mother rubs her hand across his shoulders as she passes to put her bags down, she sounds worried.
“I messed up, mom.”
She sighs, sits down opposite him and takes his hands, “with Yahaba?” Kyoutani looks up at her and she smiles. “I knew you liked him from the first time I met him. You can't keep secrets from me.”
Kyoutani smiles but it fades quickly, “I don't know how to fix it.”
“Well what did you do?”
“It's more what I didn't do.”
“Ah,” his mother says, opening the can of beer she must have bought on the way home. “That's trickier, I think. Have you told him why you didn't do it?”
“That's the problem, I don't know why I didn't.”
“Work that out first, then tell him. He must really like you, he's been with you all summer, almost every day.”
“I hope so.”
Kyoutani thinks it isn't as simple as that, just because two people like each other doesn't mean it will work out. His mom must have liked his father at one point and look how that turned out.
But he follows his mother's advice, thinks about it while he walks the dog and in the shower and in bed when he's meant to be reading a book.
He still doesn't know, he remembers feeling panicked suddenly. Scared.
Like something was wrong.
But he doesn't know what and he doesn't know why.
Kyoutani stops trying to talk to him which stings even though Yahaba told him to. Things at home are weird, his father sits with them for meals now and the three of them make stilted conversation.
Yahaba thinks he should have kept his thoughts to himself, all this trying to make nice is exhausting. His mother is worried about him, he can tell, she watches him with sad eyes every night as he heads to his bedroom the second dinner is over.
He lies in bed doing his homework alone but most of the time he does nothing. He thinks he might have overreacted but he's not sure he did when it felt so much like a rejection, when there's been no explanation.
When he dreams it's of Kyoutani, offering his hand out in a ray of sunshine, pushing him into the grass, looking at him with his eyes molten and tender.
One night his mother follows him up, sits on the edge of his bed while he curls up facing away from her. She cards her hand through his hair tenderly and Yahaba feels himself start to crack. His throat feels thick and his chest aches and his eyes burn.
“You really liked him, didn't you, sweetheart?”
Yahaba sniffs, feels his pillow getting wet. He feels five years old again, crying to his mother because he fell off his bike and scraped his knee.
It hurts worse this time though.
Yahaba wishes he'd just scraped his knee.
“Sometimes these things just don't work out. It's horrible, isn't it?”
“What?” He asks, rolling onto his back and seeing his mother's face, tender and worried.
“Heartbreak,” she murmurs softly and Yahaba feels his face scrunch up and he sniffs and she's right.
He feels like his heart is broken and a fresh wave of tears trickle down his cheeks.
“It'll get easier, darling,” his mother smiles, bends down to kiss his head, wipes his eyes gently with a tissue. “I promise.”
Yahaba hopes the day where it's easier comes soon.
Two weeks after the term starts Kyoutani snaps him, it's just a photo of the pets but his heart still pounds when he gets the notification.
‘they miss you.’
Yahaba leaves his phone on the bed so the photo will be black when it sends, ‘just them?’
‘I do too. Just didn't think you'd want to hear that.’
Yahaba doesn't reply, stares at the message until the screen goes black, rolls over.
Goes to sleep.
Yahaba answers the door, a cold wind blows past him and Kyoutani is standing there in his garden looking unsure of himself.
“Flowers?” Yahaba asks, unimpressed.
“They're for your mom,” he says evenly. “Can we talk?”
“I'd rather not.”
Kyoutani shuffles his feet, looks like he wants to argue but then just sags down. Murmurs, “okay,” nods slowly, turns like he's going to leave.
Yahaba hates himself but he calls out after him, tells him to wait, pulls shoes on and takes the flowers that are for his mom and disappears into the house to give them to her.
Passes his father on the way, doesn't see him go to the front door, doesn't hear wherever he says to Kyoutani.
They walk for a while, until Yahaba realises where they're going and thinks that he'd rather not go back to where it all went wrong.
But he knows he'll never rest until he knows what happened, he'll never get closure if he's always wondering why.
When they pass into the clearing a familiar sight meets Yahaba's eyes, the ruins of a small fire, the pile of spare twigs they've gathered.
There's something new though, two camping chairs sit alone in the overgrown grass.
Kyoutani must have set this up in advance.
That must mean he's serious about trying to fix things.
Yahaba wonders again if he overreacted, if he should have just kept his stupid mouth shut and kept waiting.
Kyoutani gestures for him to sit down so he does, feels the faint heat from the waning sun and thinks that summer feels so long ago. Kyoutani sits next to him, he feels very far away.
The silence spreads, grows until Yahaba thinks it's going to suffocate him.
Then Kyoutani sucks in a breath and just starts. Despite the build up, Yahaba still feels like he's not ready.
“I'm going to tell you something that even my mother doesn't know about.”
Yahaba looks up, Kyoutani tells his mother pretty much everything so if he's not told her it must be big. He feels his stomach start to drop.
“And,” he swallows, his voice seems brittle. “Can you not look at me, while I say it?”
Yahaba watches him for a minute, not meeting his eye, a tendon in his neck stands out hard. Whatever he's going to say must be difficult and suddenly it feels like Yahaba is invading on something he shouldn't be. He looks away, like he was asked.
There's another beat of silence, he hears Kyoutani breathing, hears him open his mouth, the click of his tongue. “The first time I kissed a boy I was ten,” Yahaba assumes this is going somewhere so he keeps looking at the squashed square of grass where they'd pitched the tent. “My father found out.”
Kyoutani told him not to look but he can't help it, the feeling of dread in his stomach turns into a bottomless pit.
There is no happy ending to this story.
“He hit me, like he used to hit my mom. But, he did it where she wouldn't see. He said no son of his was gonna be a-” He chokes on the word, can't get it to come out, sits there with his hands shaking. He takes a breath to steady himself and all Yahaba can do is stare and hate a man he's never met. “And I don't, I just panicked. I didn't realise that was why, but- I was just scared.”
Yahaba watches him, thinks they're both to blame for the mess they're in. Yahaba shouldn't have taken it so badly.
Or he could have just kissed Kyoutani himself.
That would have saved a lot of trouble.
Kyoutani looks like his body wants to cry but that he's refusing to, he's biting his lip and his eyes are misty but nothing falls, he keeps all his pain inside.
Yahaba's learning that that's not a good idea.
Yahaba thinks of Kyoutani aged ten, innocently kissing another boy at school. Going home to a man who hurts his mother. Of his young, impressionable mind being warped by a man who only knew cruelty, who only knew how to cause pain.
Their chairs are too far apart and Yahaba can't stand to see Kyoutani so upset over something that should never have happened to him. He gets up, falls to his knees in front of Kyoutani in amongst the tall grass and flowers and weeds, takes his hands.
Suddenly he feels like he's the one who needs to apologise. Realises that in his own hurt he's caused harm.
His voice is hard, insistent, “you are not his son. You are your mother's son. He's just the guy who got her pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You didn't deserve that.”
“I know. I just-” he smiles faintly, squeezes Yahaba's hands. “I know we've been doing really gay stuff all summer.” Yahaba snorts. “But it all just felt, natural, I guess.”
“Kissing me wouldn't have done?” He asks gently, he doesn't want Kyoutani to feel attacked when he's already so defenceless.
He sighs, considers it, he's still not looking at Yahaba, “I dunno, I just, I could tell you wanted me too and it just felt, like a lot of pressure.”
Yahaba feels awful, “I didn't mean to make you feel like that.”
“I know. I get why you're upset, if it was the other way round I'd be pretty pissed too.”
“I could have heard you out though.”
Kyoutani shakes his head, “I didn't have anything to say to you until today. My mom was talking to her friend on the phone about us, she said he wouldn't have liked it and I just- I got it.” He pauses, “Or I just panicked cause I didn't want to slobber all over you or something. I'm not sure. I definitely panicked though.”
Yahaba smiles, sees Kyoutani looking at him finally, “I would have put up with slobber. For the record.”
“Really?”
Yahaba laughs, “I mean I don't think you would have done, besides, practice makes perfect.”
“We never got to practice though.”
“There's still time.”
“Is there?” Kyoutani asks but he's stood and pulled Yahaba up and his hands are on his waist and he looks like a man unburdened. Lighter.
“Course there is,” Yahaba smiles, folds into his arms, feels like he's come home.
Kyoutani invites him over at the weekend and his mother is pleased when he asks if he can go, asks if they've made up while his father stares at them from the dining table. She hugs him, when he says yes. She says of course he can go and asks if he'll get her Kyoutani's mother's number just in case of emergencies.
When Yahaba turns to look at his father he's holding his mug of coffee, staring into its dark depths, deep in thought. Yahaba doesn't want to know what about.
So he goes to Kyoutani's and when his mother answers the door she wraps him up in a hug, saying she knew they'd work things out. She says they're both stupid but they're young so it's to be expected.
Kyoutani's nipped out to get some bits from the store so his mother asks him if he wants to help her start some baking while they wait. Yahaba hasn't baked since he was tiny but he agrees and puts on an apron and does what she tells him. He's busy stirring a bowl of cookie mix that just won't incorporate no matter how hard he tries when the front door opens.
He keeps focusing on his batter, follows Kyoutani's mum's instruction to ‘mix the shit out of it’ and listens to Kyoutani potter around in the kitchen behind them.
There's a huff of laughter, “look who's baking with mummy like a little girl.”
Yahaba laughs, his mother raises an eyebrow, “shut up.”
“I thought you liked baking with mummy?” His mother asks, a hand on her hip, her expression expectant.
Kyoutani flushes, Yahaba turns back to his mixing bowl on the counter, “I do!”
“Knew it,” Yahaba murmurs, starts faintly when Kyoutani comes up behind him and puts arms around his waist, plonks his head down on his shoulder.
“Why's it so lumpy?”
Kyoutani's mother slaps his head, “he's just not got the technique down, be nice.”
“I am being nice,” Kyoutani grouses, and Yahaba thinks that he is. He can't imagine being this tactile with Kyoutani at his own house.
He decides then.
Kyoutani's mother is cool.
When his father drops him off at school Kyoutani is sitting on one of the low walls surrounding the grounds waiting for him. His father notices, must see both of them perk up because he doesn't unlock the car straight away like he normally does.
He peers at Kyoutani through the passenger window, “that the boy you've been pining over?” Yahaba nods, there's no point in lying. His dad frowns, “don't see it myself.”
“I wouldn't expect you to.”
His dad smiles faintly, inclines his head, “he a nice boy?”
“Yeah.”
“Makes you happy?”
“Yeah.”
His dad nods, offers a curt wave to Kyoutani who responds in kind, murmurs, “good.” Unlocks the door.
It's a weird interaction but Yahaba thinks his dad is trying to be supportive even though he doesn't agree with it, even though it goes against his views. He thinks it must be hard, being told that you're a terrible father, being told that your son hates you. Yahaba feels proud of him, for a minute, for at least trying to change. Smiles and says, “Thanks for the ride, dad.” Hops out of the car before he sees his reaction.
He hasn't called him dad in years.
Kyoutani stands up when he sees him and even though his dad's car is still idling behind them, when Yahaba gets to him he pulls him into a tight hug. Kyoutani mumbles a good morning but he's obviously still half asleep, flopped onto Yahaba like he's using him to stay upright.
Kisses his temple.
He's started doing that sometimes, kissing anywhere but his mouth. His hairline, his cheek, the curve of his jaw. Yahaba smiles as they part, fond in the dawn light, reaches for his hand because there's nobody around yet.
Behind them, his dad's car slowly pulls away.
Neither of them notice it.
A month later and they still haven't kissed but Yahaba isn't worried about it because he knows Kyoutani has some stuff to work through. It'll happen when it happens, he thinks. Besides, he's more than happy with everything else.
Everything else being holding hands under desks, sneaking embraces before practice, exchanging glances. Sleeping over but only at Kyoutani's because Yahaba's father is still coming to terms with it and they don't want to give him a heart attack. Studying together, walking the dog, hanging out in their special spot where nobody can see them and they can lie in the long grass and not feel the pressure of a secret.
One day the three of them are sitting eating dinner in silence that is less uncomfortable than it was only a week ago, when Yahaba's dad clears his throat.
“It seems to me that you're serious about this boy you're seeing.”
Yahaba blinks, this is one subject they don't discuss and his mother looks tense, like she expects an argument. He keeps his voice steady, “I am.”
His father has some water, clears his throat again, “then I think it's time I met him. You should invite him for dinner one night.”
Yahaba is stunned and even his mother looks surprised but his dad is trying and he recognises it, smiles, “I'll ask him tomorrow.”
“Good lad.” His dad says, smiles back awkwardly, like it's a face he's not used to making.
Yahaba wonders if his father has felt as lost as the rest of them, if the distance was hard on him too. He wonders if he felt his family drifting away, felt powerless to get them back.
Kyoutani is not keen on the idea of coming to dinner but he agrees reluctantly so one day after practice they don't separate at the door like they usually do. They go inside together.
Dinner is pretty much ready like it is every night when he gets home so his mother tells them to wash up while they wait for his father to get home.
His father takes a while to start interrogating him, he asks how their days were and if they have plans for the weekend, normal stuff.
Then it begins.
Yahaba isn't sure how Kyoutani will react to his father since they're both pretty strong personalities. But when the interrogation starts he doesn't miss a beat.
“And what are your plans after school?”
“College.”
“What subject?”
“I'm gonna train to be a vet.”
His father looks ruefully impressed, “That's a big commitment, what about volleyball?”
“I'll keep playing.”
“For fun?”
There's a beat where Kyoutani and Yahaba's father just look at each other, then Kyoutani smiles like he's amused by the suggestion. “For the Olympics. I'm hoping to get scouted this year, get a scholarship.”
“And if you don't?”
“I think I will.”
Yahaba's dad makes a noise like a gentle scoff and Yahaba opens his mouth, “I think he will too. He's one of the best players in the country. If you'd ever come to a game you'd know that.”
A tense silence falls, Kyoutani squeezes his knee under the table, thanking him and comforting him in one movement.
His father looks rather lost, like it had never even occurred to him that Yahaba might want him to go. He clears his throat, “You certainly seem determined.”
His dad seems impressed again, but in a way that annoys him slightly. Yahaba thinks they're actually really well matched, they're both headstrong and neither of them will tolerate disrespect.
Yahaba laughs suddenly, watches his dad raise an eyebrow, “he's about as stubborn as you are. If he wants it, he'll get it. Believe me.”
His father looks at him, sees the way Kyoutani smiles at his son as he supports him, “I think I do.”
He pulls Kyoutani away for a private word after they've eaten and Yahaba and his mother exchange a concerned look as they disappear behind the heavy door of study.
Kyoutani watches Yahaba's father take a seat, regards him neutrally as he remains standing, “I don't want to see my son hurt.”
“Neither do I.”
Yahaba's father seems impressed with his quick, earnest reply, sighs, “I can't pretend I understand it, two men wanting to be together.”
“You love your wife, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“I don't see how it's any different,” his voice is cold but intense, firm.
Yahaba's father watches him critically, asks, softer, “are you saying you love my son?”
“I think he needs to be the first person to hear that.”
“I think you're right,” he sighs again, takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. He seems to realise Kyoutani isn't afraid of him and won't be intimidated. “What if I forbid you from seeing him?”
Kyoutani scoffs, “that's not going to stop me. Or him.”
“I see that,” he seems more relaxed now, Kyoutani thinks he's passed some sort of test. “So the future, veterinary school, the Olympics. All well and good but what about my son, what does his future with you look like?”
Kyoutani thinks about this, about the rest of their lives spreading out in front of them, vast and full of promise.
Opens his mouth.
Yahaba's father looks pleased when the two of them exit the office, much to the surprise of Yahaba and his mother who have been awkwardly hovering and exchanging looks.
He clears his throat and Yahaba waits to see what he says, stares, stunned as he puts a hand on Kyoutani's shoulder and says, “well, I think we've cleared everything up nicely.” Kyoutani aims a look at Yahaba, “now you two, I'm sure you have homework to do. Tell your mother I'll drop you off later.”
“Yes, sir,” Kyoutani says, still making eyes at Yahaba until he is released and the two of them are able to escape upstairs.
The minute the door closes Yahaba is grabbing his hands and pulling him onto the bed and asking, “what did he say?”
Kyoutani shrugs, he thinks it's a pretty normal talk to have with your child's partner, “just what my intentions with you are.”
“Your intentions?” Kyoutani nods, flops back against the pillows and watches Yahaba crawl over him so he can see his face. He's basically sat in his lap. “What did you say?”
“Just loads of kinky sex stuff.’
Yahaba laughs, hits him, “you did not say that!”
Kyoutani smiles, puts his arms around Yahaba's waist, “you're right, I didn't.”
“Well what did you say?”
“Just the usual,” Yahaba looks like he's going to hit him again. “College together, maybe, or long distance. Getting a place together, maybe get a dog.”
“Cat.”
“Both?”
Yahaba considers this, “deal.”
Kyoutani doesn't tell him what else he'd said, it feels too intense for right now.
The future can wait, he thinks, curled up with Yahaba on the floor of his room doing homework, trading little touches.
The future can wait, he thinks.
He's enjoying right now.
They have their first practice game with Yahaba as captain, his father messaged Kyoutani's mother to find out when it was and booked time off to see it which is unheard of. They turned up together, his father gave her a lift.
It feels weird, to be helping Kyoutani to stretch with his father's eyes on them but he doesn't seem bothered, busy chatting to Kyoutani's mother.
Weird.
It's the last minute and the air is thick with tension.
If they mess this up it'll end in a tie.
The ball comes to Yahaba.
Arcs off his fingers perfectly, there's a second where it just hangs in the air, then Kyoutani is flying up to get it, all tensed muscles and determination.
There's a slam where his palm connects, sends it across the net and down down-
The libero dives for it.
Misses by a centimetre.
Then the thud of the ball hitting the floor.
A moment of stillness.
The whistle blows and everything erupts and Kyoutani has grabbed him and his feet are off the floor and he's spinning, laughing. The rest of the team mob them and through the chaos he sees his father in the bleachers next to Kyoutani's mother, smiling, clapping. He looks comically reserved next to Kyoutani's mother who screams and whoops and yells, “that's my boy!”
Yahaba is still happy he's there.
Happy that he seems proud.
His father takes all of them out for dinner to celebrate and even though it's a practice match that didn't mean all that much, it's a nice gesture. So they sit there, Kyoutani and his mom, Yahaba and his parents.
It's weirdly nice. The adults make conversation about work and their boys and things in general. They seem to be getting along quite well even though they're very different. Yahaba watches his mother animated, smiling.
No longer the downtrodden house wife of an absent husband.
Yahaba and Kyoutani hold hands under the table, tired and happy, full. They're at the restaurant for what feels like a very long time and Yahaba is all but falling asleep on Kyoutani's shoulder when a question is offered.
Does Kyoutani want to stay over tonight?
It's Yahaba's mother who offers and though Yahaba looks at his dad he says nothing, let's his mom make the decision for them.
Kyoutani agrees, obviously.
Yahaba's father puts down his wine, points at the two boys, “no funny business in my house.”
Yahaba cringes, Kyoutani nods. Yahaba's mother rolls her eyes.
Kyoutani's mother grins, “Don't worry boys, you can do all your funny business in my house.”
Kyoutani laughs, Yahaba's father looks perturbed and not entirely sure if she's serious but picks up his wine and decides to ignore it.
Progress.
Kyoutani watches Yahaba's nose scrunch up as he stares at the paragraph of English with limited comprehension. He watches him frown as if disgusted, flip though his notes to find a word he doesn't know. He bites his lip, traces a sentence on the page, smiles as if he's gotten it, makes a note in the margin.
Kyoutani is meant to be working on his own homework but he's not, he's just watching Yahaba struggle. The house is quiet, his mother is out running errands and the animals aren't interested for once. It's just the two of them tucked up in his bedroom, studying for a test that's coming up.
There's music on, some playlist of Yahaba's that's relaxed and easy to listen to, easy to drown out when you need to concentrate.
“God I hate English.”
“Well you can stop studying it when you leave school. You don't have to keep learning it.”
Yahaba considers this, frowns, “well I'm not going to understand the commentary at the Olympics if I don't understand English.”
Kyoutani smiles, “as if you'll need the commentary.”
Yahaba shrugs, keeps working on his text even though he hates the language and everything about it. Keeps studying because in the future they make together he might need to know it.
Kyoutani reaches for him, a hand on his arm, his face. Yahaba responds slowly, still stuck on his homework, murmurs a, “hm?” But absently, he's not paying attention, just let's himself be pulled in still holding his workbook.
Which is why he doesn't realise Kyoutani's about to kiss him until he does.
Until he's done it already.
Yahaba looks surprised, shy when he moves back, his cheeks are flushed red and he's smiling, biting the inside of his cheek. For a dry, chaste kiss he seems to have liked it. Flops into his side, smitten, “something special about today?”
“You're studying English for the Olympics.”
Yahaba's nose scrunches again, he doesn't seem to think it's significant. “Well yeah, I'm gonna be there, aren't I?”
And Kyoutani thinks, yeah.
You're going to be there, and we're going to win. While the team celebrate I'm going to find you in the crowd and I'm going to get down on one knee and I'm going to get out a ring.
I'm going to propose with the crowd screaming and you in tears and you're going to say yes and even if it's still illegal to get married it's not illegal to get engaged. And we're going to get a house in the suburbs with a garden big enough for us to play in, just for fun. And we're going to adopt pets and maybe even a kid eventually and we'll watch them all grow up.
Kyoutani thinks, in a split second, we're going to grow old together, I want your face to be the last thing I see.
But all he says is, “Of course you are,” and Yahaba untucks himself and puts his hands on his face and kisses him like somebody who's done it a few times before and Kyoutani thinks-
The future can wait.
I'm enjoying right now.